The red mark
by Macky19
Summary: Sodapop ends up somewhere he doesn't belong and attracts some unwanted attention, resulting in some chaos, fights, and...romance? Rated T for some mature themes.


Read this part for unnecessary backstory)

Damn…

Okay, okay. So yes, this is really different than anything I've ever written before, and yes, I am working on other stories right now, and yes Soda and Dal are a little OC in this but hear me out

I'm not usually a romance writer, however, I do like a good friends to lovers story, mostly for the dynamic, the detail, the FEELINGS

Plus I wanted to try something new, because maybe even though I don't like romance some of you out there

(Important A/N you should probably read, or don't, I'm not going to tell you how to live your life)

Warning: Boy x boy, romance, kind of fluffy, mature themes, Dally shows his dominance (he pulls Soda's hair, IDK guys I thought it was good at first) kissing, this is getting long for an A/N ok love y'all

I don't own the outsiders

Enjoy

Even in a packed room full of people with all the doors closed, Sodapop Curtis can feel the chill of the crisp autumn air. He's sure that he can still feel the biting wind swirling around him, bringing the cold darkness and death of winter along with it. Or maybe it's all in his head, he's never liked the cold and sometimes he's still shivering long after even if he's entered a warm place, like a strange sort of temperature paranoia. Either way, he can feel shivers going up and down his spine, and he can't help but curl into himself a little more, even though he feels a little embarrassed about it. Balled up in a chair, shaking like a small child he has only one thought, "I don't belong here."

And to be truthful, he didn't belong. The room was full of people that were consuming large amounts of alcohol so they could pretend they were happy, while Soda was honestly and truly happy. Still, he held a red cup of beer up to his lips even though he knows he shouldn't and that he doesn't need it, and in a way, he's proud of it in away. Being joyful seemed so rare these days, no one he cared about or even knew seemed happy these days, he thought to himself somewhat bitterly, but at least fake happy is still around. He didn't feel like himself that day though, he felt tired and easily agitated and just wanted to be alone.

A loud, familiar laugh made him glance up, the first time that he had shown his face at that party. He noticed the source of the booming laugh came from none other than Dallas Winston, and upon seeing his buddy, Soda's uncharacteristic gloomy was momentarily forgotten. A smile curled on the corner of the Curtis boy's mouth as Dally spotted him, and winked a big blue eye at him, and slowly but surely Soda's small smile turned into a full-blown grin. The sense of familiarity from recognizing someone from his gang put him at ease and to his surprise a sense of belonging flooded in his chest.

If Soda had to choose one word how he felt about Dally it would be envy, even though he knows it shouldn't be. Soda is by no means insecure, sure he's funny, and he knows that he's decently attractive, and in a way, Soda has everything that he needs. Unfortunately, that wasn't a reality for the older greaser, and that made Soda feel guilty for the envious feelings that he felt for the young man. Dallas is strong, and he's fiery, and he can take anything that the world can throw at him, and that's not something that Soda thinks he could do. He thinks that he's just jealous of strong people.

Before Sodapop can form another thought he's joined by three of the toughest greasers in Oklahoma. Tim Shepard sat across from him, grinning wildly, and Soda's feeling of not wanting to be there had returned. He had never been truly scared of Dallas, to be truthful he trusted Dal, he knew that Dally would never hurt him, but Tim shepherd he wasn't so sure, but he forced himself to stay put. Instead, he squinted through the dull light to look at the two other people by his sides. To his right was Sylvia Mourney, looking excited but a little calmer than her companions. Her bleach-blond hair looked as if it her a hot pink due to the lighting, and in an odd train of thought he decided that the wild colored hair suited her. Finally, to his left was Dally, who promptly threw an arm around him.

"Little Curtis, how it going?" Tim slurred, undoubtedly intoxicated. Soda frowned at the mocking name and chose not to acknowledge the question. He didn't want the company, he didn't want to talk, and he knew that if he ignored them they would get bored and go find something better to do. Don't move, don't look them in the eye and the predator can't see you, and slip away before they can attack. And that's the very difference between him and Dally, is that Dallas does the attacking, he always seems to get what he wants, and Soda would give anything to be like that. He wants to finish school and get a good job so they can send his younger brother to a good school and Darry doesn't have to break his back every day and retire at 75. He feels that if he were just a little bit more bold then he would be able to complete that dream.

But along with being a truly happy and hopeful person, Soda is also a realist. And he knows that dream has no way of coming true, he accepted that long ago.

It takes him a minute to notice that Tim is still talking, he only sees the lips moving, his eyes wide and mischievous, but even then he doesn't pay attention to his words. He and Sylvia are cracking themselves up, joking about how it must be past Soda's bedtime, and wondering if Darry knows he's at a party so late. He resists the urge to roll his eyes, he doesn't want to give them what they want. Sylvia keeps reapplying her ruby red lipstick that she pulled from her bag, and Soda can't help but cringe, it's an ugly color, not a deep scarlet red like Sandy used to wear when they were together, but bright red, the color of blood and chaos. He can only hope that isn't foreshadowing what's about to come.

He tears his eyes from them to look at Dallas, who's had an arm around his ever since he invited himself to sit at his table. Dally looks amused but alert, a scowl on his face, but it doesn't hold any malice, he may be little tipsy, but overall he's there. He observes his face, not quite sure what he's looking for because it's not like his friend would look any different than the last time he saw him. Dally isn't handsome, his face is all hard lines and weird angles, opposite of Soda's soft, almost childlike features. His eyes are so unkind they would be better suited as black as opposed to their actual sapphire. Overall Dallas looks tired, angry and done with being used. Soda is so caught up observing all the features on the blond man's face that when Dally's scowl turns to a snarl it scares him. It takes him a minute to figure out why the sudden change of expression.

He turns slowly to look at Sylvia, he can feel her gaze burning into his back. And no surprise, she's making eyes at him, this was exactly what he was trying to avoid, he groaned inwardly. Then, it dawned on him that he didn't know whether he and Dallas were together or not, it had just become too tiring to keep track of their many break up and get-togethers. He feels immensely guilty, and if he had the strength he would have just gotten up and walked away, he feels like he's betraying Dally. If they are together, Sylvia must be gutsier than Dal and Tim combined, her giving Dally's buddy that look with her boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) sitting just a few feet away.

She knows Dal's looking, and she giggles and gives a slow wink, but to Soda's relief stood up. She smacked a wet kiss on the side of Sodapop's face, the golden-haired boy recoiled. She giggled again but miraculously left, and if looks could kill, she'd be six feet under from the one Dallas was giving her. Tim Shepard left the table as well, his face unreadable as he rushed after her, and Soda was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief.

"What're you doing here, kid?" Dally demands, wearing a scowl that isn't friendly. Soda wants so badly to shake off the arm that he's had around his shoulders for several minutes now, as he realizes that it's not meant to be friendly, but to display protectiveness and to push him out if need be. He doesn't answer, because saying that he doesn't feel like himself, or he's been trying to fit in with a group since he dropped out of school seems kind of pathetic, especially considering that Dallas is a dropout by choice. He doesn't answer, instead watching himself fiddle with his thumbs. He looks up, and is shocked by how close their faces are together, how easy it would be to just lean in and-

He stopped that train of thought before it could get any farther, because as he discussed before, Soda is a realist. And that was not a very real thought.

He's about to make a snarky comment back, that he's the same age as him, or he can go wherever he wants. But before he can make either of those comments Dal is out of his chair, storming off, and before Soda can turn around to see where he's run off to there's a scream and the sound of someone hitting the floor hard. He whips around and Dal is standing over Tim, who's groaning on the floor, blood flowing from his nose, but not enough to mask the leftover kiss marks from Sylvia's red lipstick. He understands what happened right away, her and Dallas were together, well were might be pass tensed now. Sylvia is standing behind Dally, said lipstick smeared and hands clamped over her mouth in shock.

Two tall, muscular men push Sylvia out of the way, as she yelled indignantly from the bar that she was thrown up against. Soda instantly recognizes the one as Curly, Tim's brother, but doesn't remember the other one, but they're both members of Shepard's gang. They each grab one of Dally's biceps and pick him up in a way that would be comical if it weren't for the situation. The hood instantly starts struggling and yelling threats as he's dragged out, and Soda feels his panic start to build up because he's pretty sure that he's about to be the last person that saw the infamous Dally Winston alive. Before he can process what his own body is doing he's up out of his seat, chasing the struggling greaser, shouting his name.

He follows them to the back door, where they simply throw Dallas to the ground, and Soda realizes with horror that there's not anything that he can do. A member of his gang is about to be beaten to death, and oh god, he's so helpless right now.

But the hoods aren't beating him up, they're not taunting or threatening, they're just watching, making sure Dal is staying where he is. And the second miracle of that night, they leave. Soda can still hear his heart beating in his chest, his mouth still wide in a different kind of shocked, his eyes locked on a furious but untimely unharmed Dallas. He knows why they left him here like this because Dally is so respected by everyone and anyone, including the rival gangs. Tomorrow Tim and Dal will probably be pals again, and next week Dally will slash Tim's tires for who knows what, and the week after that Dally and Sylvia will be back together again.

Dallas shoots up and begins punching the wall of the building hard until his knuckles are torn open and blood is spraying. Soda flinches at each punch but does nothing to stop him, because he knows it hurts, to be seen as the other man like that. He doesn't know how to comfort him though, because he doesn't think a hand on his shoulder would be welcome at this time. Finally, even though he's still fuming, breathing hard as if smoke were going into his lungs instead of oxygen, Dally starts to calm down, but not he's facing Soda. And the younger greaser doesn't know whether to try and talk to him or run for his life.

Dally takes a few steps towards him, and his usual scowl is back on his face, in a sick sort of way it's comforting, Soda's always been one for familiarity. Dallas blinks once, twice. He's thinking and contemplating, Soda wonders about what. He closes his own brown eyes, half expecting a blow to the face, a punch like the ones that were being directed at the wall a few minutes ago. No blows come though, and Soda reluctantly opens his eyes, and they both share a miserable sigh, and fir the first time that night they're eyes are locked on each other. He hates to admit it, but Dally seems a little less intimidating now that he's seen him tossed on the ground like a rag doll.

"Sorry, you had to see that," Dally says like he's not sorry at all. Soda bites his lip but says nothing. He doesn't think they're if anything to say.

"S'alright." He forces out cheekily. Dally smiles now, kind of softly now, and Soda shivers. God, when did he get so close? Why is he so close?

"Ya know, you're kind of pretty, right babe?" Dal replies in the same cheekiness, but whatever confidence Soda was feigning is gone now. He thinks he's hallucinating because no way just came out of Dally's mouth. Maybe he's was drunk, he reasoned, maybe they both are.

Soda inches forward and presses his mouth again Dallas', because he she may be a realist but he is a little bold and crazy, even if it's not as much as he'd like to be, but it is enough to kiss Dallas Winston on the lips. He feels Dal hesitate for a minute, and he doesn't move a single muscle, doesn't breathe a breath until he starts kissing him back. Then he lets his eyes fall shut as Dal pulls away, he almost pouts because he wasn't ready for it to be over but he didn't make a sound, and for a second everything is still. Them, one of Dally's hand slithers up his back, and Soda goes rigid, and his breathing is getting hard again. Dally's hand is tangled in his hair now, and in a sharp movement his head, his jerked back.

His heart is pounding as Dal's eyes are locked on the pale skin of his neck, and the thoughtful look on his face is making him nervous. The grip that he has on his hair doesn't hurt, but there's no way to escape if he wanted to.

"Do you trust me?" Dally asked quietly, and Soda glared at him. Dally gave a tug on his hair, making him cry out. "Do you trust me?" He asked again, a bit louder. Soda breathes out slowly, remembering his thoughts from before.

"Yes." He admits, and Dallas cocked a blond brow at him. "Prove it then." He said, and it took Soda a minute of contemplation to prove his trust, especially when he was trapped liked this. Then, he relaxed into the older man's touch, and immediately Dally rubbed his fingers almost gently through his hair before he released his hold, pushing a little as he did and Soda staggered forward and fell against Dal. The blond greaser chuckled, ignoring the glares from the smaller man at being shoved. "I've got you." He says in an attempt to be reassuring. Then he frowns, and Sodapop is aware of Dally's rough hand rubbing at something at his face and remembers that Sylvia had kissed his cheek earlier wearing that awful lipstick that must have left a mark.

"You know you're kind of pretty right?" He imitates Dallas from earlier, and they both share a chuckle because they know it's not true. Dallas smiles at him kind of sadly. "You know we have to a lot to talk about right?" He asks, and Soda nodded slowly.

"Good, well, let's start on why you're here in the first place." Soda rolled his eyes but nodded all the same.

He sure was happy that he didn't walk away from that table.

Well. That was that.

What did you think? Should I write more of this? Should I never write again? Should I delete my account and never show my face again?

Review and let me know :)

Hope you enjoyed, sincerely, Macky


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